


★𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉★

by AlwaysHaveNeverHold



Category: ATEEZ (Band), NCT (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ (Band) Are Not Famous, ATEEZ - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Angst and Romance, Ballet Dancer San (ATEEZ), Baristas, Break Up, Break Up Talk, College, Cute, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I Love You, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Love Poems, Makeup Sex, Mentioned ATEEZ Ensemble, Mentioned Red Velvet Ensemble, Mentioned TWICE Ensemble, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up, Post-Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Prose Poem, Romance, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Students, Tragic Romance, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysHaveNeverHold/pseuds/AlwaysHaveNeverHold
Summary: Choi San was your first breathtaking kiss. He was your first love. You never thought you could love anyone else. But, as life goes, things end. Now, you've been doing just fine on your own these past three years. You've learned a lot about yourself and you've been dedicated to your studies. You've made a lot of new friends; things are great. Then San comes back into your life and you have to wonder whether you want to jump into that lake of memories—if nothing else, then to just experience that short-lived high again.God of the idea: @starsfortenJesus of expressing it in writing: @alwayshaveneverhold
Relationships: Choi San/Female Reader, Choi San/Heo Yoorim, Choi San/Reader, Choi San/Son Chaeyoung
Kudos: 6





	1. ★𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓮★

_"I'm not so fine"_

**1 February 2021**

****

Your university is in the opposite direction of your workplace but for some reason you still make the hour drive out to Incheon every morning before classes just to see your coworkers and pretend to study while you’re actually watching Youtube videos. Maybe it’s the sense of family or the Dunkin’ pride, but on the rare days that you can’t make it out there, your entire day starts off with sad boi energy. But today is normal—it’s a good day, and even with the bustling ambiance of people moving to and fro on Terminal 1’s walkway around you, you have no trouble zeroing in on the dorky-looking boy standing behind the POS system at Dunkin’ Coffee House.

It’s David in his stupid Dunkin’ visor and he looks half-dead as he swipes the credit card of a short old man. You draw closer, readjusting your bookbag strap over your shoulder with a smirk tugging your mouth in one direction. suddenly, Kitae pops up from under the espresso machine with a yelp. His back is turned to you and David and the aforementioned turns around to say something to him. As you approach them, you peer over the counter to see that Kitae has dropped the entire 50 lb pail of Cafiza and it looks like a billion dollars of cocaine has fallen expensively to the ground. The old man narrows his eyes at the two men who are now panicking and no longer paying attention to the front. He shakes his head and turns around to leave. You notice that there are only two other customers immersed in their work at tables a few feet away from the counter.

You snake over to the cash register to take the old man’s place, watching David and Kitae argue for a moment. Kitae places his gigantic hands over the visor on his head, almost completely covering the top of it. His eyes, wide and afraid, keep darting from the chemical to the cameras installed above them, spouting about how the bosses are going to fire him while David tells him to vacuum it up, but, “나 진공 청소기 못 해, 임마! 이거는 진공청소기로 길을 잃을 거야!” _I can’t vacuum it, dude! It’ll get lost with the rest of the vacuum dirt!_

“그럼 진공 청소부터 해, 멍청아!” _Then clean out the vacuum first, dumbass!_

“나한테 소리 지르지 마!!!” _dON’T YELL AT ME!_

“Welcome to Dunkin’!” You say, causing them both to turn their attention to you. “Where we dunk on our haters and have emotional breakdowns over coke.”

Kitae is the first one to shout, “아아아!” _AHHHH!_ And you know that that’s his way of saying, “thank God you’re here!” because he’s book smart but common sense is not his forte. In your three years working with Kitae, you’ve watched him improve very slightly. Yet here he is. Still kickin’ it at Dunkin’.

David laughs nervously before responding, “Welcome to Dunkin’, are you ready to get dunked, ma’am?”

Taking a step or two to the side so you can lean over the pick-up counter, you gesture to the fallen Cafiza pail and calmly say, “쓸어버려, 새끼들.” _Sweep it up, dipshits._

“넌 너무 시적이야,” _You’re so poetic,_ Kitae mutters before sulking over to the broom like he’s upset that he didn’t think of that first.

While he does that, David sighs all the way over to you where he pretends to type something in on the POS screen. “The usual?”

“Yes indeedy, sweety.” You hand him an invisible credit card and he pretends to swipe it before turning his miserably tired eyes on you and telling you it’ll be right out. So you reach over the counter to pat his shoulder and say, “SoundCloud isn’t worth the dark circles, Doorvid.”

David’s voice crescendos into a yell as you walk away to find a table. “Yes, iT IS.”

There’s a small square wooden table right up against the divider bookshelf separating Dunkin’ from the Hooters next door. With a small laugh, you remember how upset everyone was when your old coworker Sophia quit Dunkin' to work next door. David had deemed her and the entire Hooter’s establishment as “an enemy of the Dunkin’ brand”. But you’ve seen him peeking around the large bookcase to peep the Hooter’s waitresses. At the end of the day, sexual frustration wins over loyalty—at least for David. You don’t really care that Sophia went to Hooters, but you definitely enjoy saying, “Pleasant Hooter’s!” every time she leaves after you two meet up.

After setting up your laptop and making sure that it’s plugged in, you take a seat, but you don’t open up the sleek electronic device you dropped your entire first paycheck on three years ago. Instead, you look out at the terminal floor and watch people say goodbye or greet each other. A little boy runs into his father’s arms, screaming with joy as his father embraces him and picks him up. A young man you’ve never seen before holding a bouquet of red roses stands unsure a few feet away, looking around with a worried expression. You’re suddenly very aware of the thump of your heart against your rib cage because you remember. You stare at the bouquet and you remember.

You can suddenly smell the songpyeon your mother was making in preparation for Chuseok. You can see the metal door in front of you and feel the weight of the trash bag you had carried all those years ago. You yelled over your shoulder to your mother in the kitchen that you were taking the trash out before stepping outside and almost tripping over a pair of Doc Martens. He was sitting there in the stairwell, back against the wall, eyes gently closed, dry lips parted, chest rising and falling slowly—a bouquet of red roses lying limp in his hands. His bangs were in his eyes and you wanted to move them away like you always did, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him. You looked him over with pathetic tears welling behind your eyes. You turned away. You went downstairs to take out the trash.

“오빠!” _BABY!_ A piercing shriek pulls you from your memory and you focus your eyes again to see a girl running toward the young man and throwing herself onto him. He barely catches her, dropping the bouquet, and she wraps her legs around his waist as she hugs him.

Your drink is set down in front of you and you look up to see Kitae staring down at you with one eyebrow raised. “친구야 왜 슬퍼?” _Why do you look sad?_ He then turns his body back toward the counter momentarily to point to where David is now scrubbing the outside of the espresso machine. “우리가 화학 약품을 치웠으니까 걱정하지 마.” _We cleaned the chemicals up, so don’t worry._ You smile. Kitae has always vibrated such an innocence that you enjoy. You’re the same age, but you view him as a little brother. Well, a little huge brother.

After assuring him that you’re okay, he turns to go back to work and you mutter under your breath as he takes big clunky steps, “Fee-fi-fo-fum…” He towers over David, who hands him the sponge and directs him to finish up. Kitae just nods and begins the task given to him. “I am a giant but I am not dumb.”

You continue watching your friends, leaving your drink neglected on the table before you. David suddenly looks toward the front with wide-eyes, spouting apologies to the customer that walked up while you were all distracted. Kitae stands by, ready to make the drink or retrieve the donut that will be ordered. But he’s squinting at the customer as if he knows him—and you have to admit the customer looks a bit familiar from behind. You think hard for a moment. Not super tall, a bit taller than David, dark hair, long trench coat that you know is to combat the heavy snow falling outside the windows that are blocked by a divider. You can’t really see his build because of that, but you squint now too to try and notice anything from the back of his head. You think you notice freckles, but you’re not sure. Just the thought is enough to send you into another stomach-flipping memory.

Now you can smell the fresh rain on the pavement again. You can feel the colorful dragonflies beating the shit out of your insides—the once pleasant friends that gently let you know when you were nervous were now betraying you. You can feel his warm skin under your fingertips and the wetness on your cheeks. You can hear his low voice cracking, saying, “제발 울지마—사랑한다.” _I love you—please don’t cry._ You can see his comforting eyes, red and wild. You lowered your lips to his neck, gently kissing the freckles you admired but never spoke of. He broke out into a sob and pulled you closer to him.

“아!” _Ah!_ Kitae says loudly and you’ve pulled from the memory again—and it’s a good thing, too, because you can feel your tear ducts throbbing, desperate for release. He points at the customer with a wide smile. “최산!” _Choi San!_

The walls close in on you from every direction. The seafood restaurant across the walkway, the Hooter’s to the left, the bar sitting in the middle of it all. Everything begins to shake and collapse and your lungs are punctured with each breath and they give out one-by-one and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and San is standing at the cash register and Kitae gestures toward you and San looks over and his eyes are still comforting but you can’t look at him so you stare down at your lap and everything is still shaking so you close your eyes because you can’t cry and you can’t think about Choi San’s freckles and Choi San’s bouquet of roses and you can’t breathe and the first time Choi San kissed you and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and you can’t—

“Are you okay?” You suddenly feel a cold hand on the fabric of your black dress shirt. It’s David because he has the coldest hands in the world and you’d know them anywhere. But it’s strangely comforting to open your eyes to David standing over you with on hand on your back and Kitae crouching beside you with his eyebrows drawn in. He places an apprehensive hand on your knee. He knows. You’ve never mentioned San’s name, but Kitae is smart. You know he’s figured it out.

You just now realize that you’re heaving and David rushes away, talking about getting water. A guilty frown spreads over Kitae’s face and he mumbles, “미안해—나는 네가 서로 아는 줄 알았는데 네가 말한 그 사람이 아닌 것 같았어.” _I’m sorry—I thought you knew each other but I didn’t think he was the guy you told us about._ You just focus on Kitae, afraid of what you’ll see if you look up again. And then David returns with the water and you gulp it down. Your breathing begins to normalize but your pulse is still rapid and the blood begins to roar in your ears because you know what you’re about to do.

Kitae stands up and says he’ll tell him to leave, but you stand in return and say, shaking, “아니. 나는 그와 얘기하고 싶다.” _No. I want to talk to him._

“근데…” _But…_

Ignoring them both, you gently push them aside and stare straight at Choi San, who’s still standing there. He’s returning your gaze and there’s something so sullen about it. It’s raining stars in his irises. It’s been three years, so naturally, you’d freak out upon seeing him—especially considering the way things ended and the way things started. You notice a piece of luggage he’s parked next to the counter. You wonder in passing if he’s visiting or staying. Then, like doves in the fall, your thoughts flock to the void of your mind and you’re left empty and full as you approach him. Your heart is on fire and the ashes accumulate in the pit of your stomach, providing a warmth that spreads all over your body. Even after all this time, Choi San…

You know he’s worried by the way he’s looking at you. But all you can do is bite back the urge to touch his face and say, “오랜만에.” _It’s been a while._

And a sad smile dances across his lips as he looks down at you the same way he did at the beginning.

“구십삼퍼센트 스타더스트.” _Ninety-three percent stardust,_ he said as you two gazed out at the twinkling night lights of Seoul. His arm was pressed up against yours; he tilted his head up to turn his attention to the sky. “불꽃으로 만들어진 영혼들 함께, 우리는 모두 사람들의 이름을 가진 별 뿐이다.” _With souls made of flames, we’re all just stars that have people names._


	2. ★𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓭★

If you give it a moment of thought, you think that it all started on that rooftop almost four years ago. But if you really, actually think about it—it started long before.

Freshman year of high school. You were dreading it—absolutely dreading it. You’d heard horror stories from your older friends, you had just gotten your first period, you started to get acne, and you just generally felt like a blob of ugly. You didn’t even want to look at yourself let alone have anyone else look at you. But alas, your pleads to be homeschooled fell on deaf ears. Mom said, “You should be grateful! There are millions of children all over the world who don’t have the educational opportunities that you do!” So you just kicked your feet and hung your head and replied, begrudgingly, “Yes, ma’am…” and went to your room to cry. You always felt closer to your father, anyway, but he was a Colonel stationed at the DMZ and you rarely saw him those days.

Through your first day of classes, all you could think was, “What a miserable existence”. You felt very sorry for yourself and it upset you that nobody else did. But things turned around—with your homeroom class. You can never forget the moment you walked into homeroom to see your friend Dohyeon standing in the back against the lockers with two pencils shoved pretty far into his nostrils eraser-first. His eyes were wide as he looked around. Your other friends, Haeseok and Sumi, stood beside him cackling. Haeseok was doubled over and crumbling to the floor when you walked in while Sumi was clapping and shifting the weight from her right foot to her left foot and back again over and over. The other kids in class were ignoring the idiots in the back, most of them engrossed in their own conversations or studying.

As soon as Dohyeon’s frightened eyes locked with yours, he called your name. That drew a lot of attention and you found that most of them were looking at you now. You wanted to crawl into the woods like a cat and die. Their stares—their nosy eyes full of double-eyelid tape and judgment and sparkly eyeshadow—made you want to vomit. You could feel the stinging sensation crawling up your throat and you tried to avert your gaze in time, but Dohyeon saved you because then he said, “나 죽어? 난 이제 죽겼어?” _Did I die? Am I dead?_

“아니, 하지만 곧 그렇게 될 거야!” _No, but you’re about to be!_ You hissed back and while you expected the class to turn away in discomfort at your aggression, they actually laughed. It wasn’t collective like a laugh-track, but the guy off to the side that was your middle-school class president—and would become captain of the baseball team—chuckled and looked away at the phone in his hand before he glanced over at Dohyeon and then you again with an amused smile. The girl with sparkly eyeshadow smirked and looked back at your friend like he got roasted, and the double-eyelid-tape girl laughed with the little group gathered around her desk. Four more years with these people. There weren’t that many kids in the room yet because class hadn’t started, but you felt somewhat approved of by about half of the students that were in there early like you. It eased your mind and you thought that maybe high school wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Despite that good moment and being chill with everyone in your homeroom, including your teacher, you reverted back to your pubescent self-pity and dragged your feet all over campus until the end of the day. And then, for the rest of the semester, you had ups and downs. There were good days, bad days, and really bad days. It was mostly because you had a huge crush on this dude that wouldn’t even give you the time of day. He was tall, rich, handsome, and three years older than you. You knew he didn’t like you, and looking back you’re not sure why you ever liked him, but you still made an ass out of yourself seemingly every chance you got. When he looked at you, his eyes were filled to the brim with pity and what seemed like contempt.

The worst day was half-way into the second semester. Leaves turned beautiful shades of burnt sienna, the winds became colder, the days grew shorter, the sky got darker, and the boy you liked told you to stop following him around in front of everyone. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, and you could see in his uncomfortably pained expression that he was trying to be nice and not draw attention to the scene, but it was enough to push your fragile self-esteem off the deep end. It was even worse than before. Not even Dohyeon, the biggest doofus you knew, could cheer you up.

Some problems at home contributed to this and caused a lack of sleep. By the end of the year, you were a walking trainwreck. You stopped putting effort into your appearance because you weren’t trying to impress someone and you couldn’t yet grasp the idea of self-love for self-love’s sake and looking good because you want to. Your friends were getting annoyed with your moping and began to snap at you over it. That only made you sink deeper into yourself. You were truly your own worst enemy.

The last month of the school year is when Choi San transferred in from Namhae. It was in homeroom, so he would be with you for the rest of your school days, but you didn’t care about the new kid or his stupid country accent. You didn’t even look up from your notebook where you wrote embarrassingly emo poems about death and being misunderstood. It’s laughable how dramatic you were—but San didn’t laugh when he sat down next to you, nosily checking out the pages you thought were guarded by your hawk eyes.

“안녕.” _Hi._

You ignored him, still having never averted your gaze from the notebook in front of you. He seemed to be waiting for you to respond, but you didn’t plan on it. You were just about done with everyone.

“최산이에요.” _I’m Choi San._

His voice was light. Not high-pitched, but light, as if it didn’t carry the weight of the world that you felt on your shoulders. It was soothing, but it still didn’t penetrate the bubble you had put around yourself. And even though you knew you were embarrassing him by ignoring him, you couldn’t bring yourself to greet the nice kid beside you. You felt too ugly, too lonely, too unworthy.

Thankfully, the class president on the other side of San leaned over to him and said, “헛수고하지 마, 친구야. 그녀는 어떤 일을 겪고 있다.” _Don’t waste your breath, friend. She’s going through some stuff._ After his comment about you, you raised your head for the first time that period. Your intention was to glare at him so fiercely that he wouldn’t ever look your way again—but you were suddenly distracted as soon as you turned toward them. The class president was in the middle of dipping his head to San, who did the same. “나난 정윤호입니다. 우리 서로 잘 지켜보자!” _I’m Jeong Yonghan. Let’s look out for each other!_

You felt overwhelmed by a current of something so heavy that you questioned whether you even had the right to be sad at all. It was heavy in the sense that it was alarmingly dense with the strongest emotions you’d ever felt. It made you choke on the air around you that seemed to be poison instead of a life-source. You couldn’t close your eyes and you couldn’t look away—and you knew it had something to do with Choi San. He was still thanking Yonghan and engaging in small talk while you stared at the back of his head.

You had no idea that such a shocked expression infiltrated your facial features until Yonghan cocked an eyebrow at you and said, “새로 온 애한테 반했어?” _You got a crush on the new kid?_

Then San turned back to you and you were really looking at him for the first time. That same current blasted you about five-thousand times stronger when you two locked eyes. All of the feeling in your body migrated quickly to your stomach and dissipated in a wave of heated nausea. It wasn’t love—it wasn’t hate, either though. All you can remember is the severe discomfort that facing San left you with at the time. He seemed taken back as well, especially because he flinched when your eyes met. Even though you quickly averted your gaze and told Yonghan to shove his rumors up his ass, you couldn’t shake the palpable tension between you and Choi San. It was static-like, pricking your skin all over but strongest on the part of your body that was facing him. It made sense to avoid him—you didn’t like the way he made you feel and clearly he didn’t like the way you made him feel. You were convinced that you two had been sworn enemies in a past life or something.

Dohyeon was seemingly the only reason that you became familiar. Your good friend since middle school was a renowned chatter-box and would talk to the pigeons hanging at the bus stop, the old people traveling up and down aged alleys nowhere near his house, and, naturally, every person he possibly could. They were few and far between, but not everyone took to his outgoing persona. San definitely did.

After you made the silent declaration to avoid this guy as much as possible, Dohyeon bounced over and started talking him up; needless to say, they hit it off. You tried to ignore their friendship as the school year came to an end, but Dohyeon started to invite him to your hangouts without telling you. Haeseok and Sumi didn’t mind—Sumi actually thought San was cute—so it was difficult to try and make them understand. You tried pointing out to Dohyeon how uncomfortable both you and San were around each other, but it went in one ear and out the other. It was an emotionally tumultuous time of awkwardly tolerating being in close quarters and being as far from each other as possible when feasible. This continued into the short break before your second year.

Then, one day, San stopped showing up.

You had heard that he told Dohyeon that he had to spend more time with his other friends—Yonghan and whoever he hung out with—because his mom didn’t like the neighborhoods that you hung out in. But you knew that it was, in part, because of you. The strangest part was the disappointment that settled in the pit of your stomach and stayed when you were told that. You wanted to be close to him, but you didn’t want anything to do with him. It was strange.

And as with most teenagers, you quickly forgot about San and your reactive nature toward each other.

Things didn’t really ramp up until about two years later when you ran into him at a party. It was hosted by Yonghan, so of course, you could have guessed that San would be there. But again, you had completely forgotten until you were faced with him. The rainbow confetti floating through the air coupled with an American trap song in the background was beginning to make you sick. It also could have been the alcohol, but you still don’t like to admit that you partook in underage drinking. You were searching for your boyfriend that you had come to the party with, but he was nowhere to be found. Faces around you blurred into nothing and everything all at once. You reached out your hand to steady yourself on what you thought was the kitchen counter. It was San’s shoulder.

He was sitting on the couch with Sumi, who you didn’t talk to anymore at that time, and who was also dating San by then. He looked up at you, but this time when your eyes met, you could only see twinkling lights dancing like fairies around his pupils in a circle to the beat of the atrocious song playing from Yonghan’s brother’s speaker system. Your heart pounded along to it as well and you were too drunk to take his reaction into account but you thought he felt it, too. You were already warm from the alcohol, but his eyes set a fire in your chest that quickly spread to every inch of you. Any moisture in your mouth evaporated, leaving you with no fuel to fight the flames. San quietly greeted you and asked if you were okay.

You said, “요정들한테 픽시 먼지 좀 달라고 해,” _Ask the fairies to ask for some pixie dust,_ and proceeded to throw up on his lap.

There isn’t much that you remember after that, but you woke up the next afternoon to your boyfriend shoving hangover soup and water in your face while lecturing you about the effects of alcohol on “underdeveloped minds”. He meant well, but it irked you that he treated you like a little sister just because he was older.

The following Monday, San talked to you for the first time since he transferred. He kind-of shuffled up to your desk—he had moved over to Sumi’s area in the room since they had started dating—with his hands in his pockets. He just stood there for a few minutes moving his eyes from the amateur pencil sketch you were working on to the top of your head; he was waiting for you to acknowledge him but you were pretty embarrassed after you heard what had happened. You could only stare at his shoes, a pair of aging Pumas.

“저기…” _Hey…_

The greeting was different than the first time he had said anything to you, but your stomach soured with déjà vu and you couldn’t make the same mistake. Only then did it occur to you that running away from him at first was the wrong decision. You wondered in passing if he felt the same way. You decided that he did—and you talked. for the first time, you really gave San a chance to see you. When he smiled, the sunlight coming from his heart shined through his teeth and almost blinded you. It was the best sinking feeling you’ve ever felt, talking to Choi San.

Your friendship blossomed from there and you both spent your days learning about each other. You discovered his love for dance—you’ve still never seen someone dance as beautifully as him—and he taught you all about ballet and relevé and a bunch of other things that went over your head. But you would just sit there and listen to him because, well, it was San. You could have listened to him talk for hours. This got on your boyfriend’s nerves and he heavily protested your friendship but you stood your ground—you were allowed to have friends. Eventually, he stopped caring because it didn’t seem like you had feelings for San. And you really didn’t—you just enjoyed his company more than anyone else. You felt comfortable being yourself without a doubt.

But, as graduation grew near, you took into consideration how different you and your boyfriend were. He was already in college and he didn’t want kids. He wanted to go everywhere and never settle down. He wanted someone to be his partner in crime. You just wanted a partner for life. Pointing out these differences and a few other issues created a fight and you were up for hours arguing with him. The night ended well past twelve and you were single when you left his apartment.

You were walking home feeling drained of all that you’d had. The glowing alley streetlights were mocking you with their jovial soft light. The gravelly shuffling of your sneakers over the snowy asphalt drowned out the crickets, early cicadas, and distant city ambiance. You could only focus down on the chilled pieces of gravel being kicked with every stop you took. Head empty, heart tired. You wanted to talk to someone. You felt lonely.

Sumi lived in that area and you always had to pass her house to get to yours. You stood in front of her door knowing that she was still awake even though the lights were off through the front window. The fleeting thought that you could rekindle your friendship came and went. Still, you decided to walk around the side of the house so you could tap on her window like you used to. Her window was dark, oddly, so you drew closer to see if she was just playing video games or watching something. What you heard has never completely gone from your memory.

It never crossed your mind that San would be over on a school night, but he was, and they weren’t sleeping. It didn’t bother you, but it bothered you. You scurried away as quickly as you could, accidentally scraping your hand on the side of her neighbor’s house. They were so close together that it was difficult to get between anyway. The rocks and snow crushed beneath the soles of your shoes and your jacket suddenly felt thin as paper as you emerged into the alley. Any pain in your hand was forgotten, numbed by the searing chill that invaded your body. Nobody wants to hear their friends having sex. It’s weird. But something about hearing San having sex just didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t jealousy, it just…it didn’t feel right. You felt the same way when you slept with your exes—something was missing. You felt bad afterward, worse than when you first faced San, although not as intense.

And then, a week later, he told you that they broke up. When he said this to you, you two were walking over Mapo bridge. You stopped and examined his face. His nose and ears were red from the cold. His lips were chapped and eyes watery. You wanted to kiss him. You didn’t—you just gave him your condolences and continued walking, nonchalantly mentioning that you broke up with your boyfriend as well.

San gave a small laugh and said, “그럼 우리 둘 다 미혼이네.” _So we’re both single._

You didn’t know what to say to that.

In the following weeks, graduation had finally come and you had been accepted to Yonsei University. You endured the lengthy ceremony, took pictures with your friends and family, and drank yourself near-dead celebrating with Dohyeon, Haeseok, and Sumi—just like the old days. You’re not sure what San did that night, as you two parted ways after taking pictures together. What you do know is that he invited you to his house for the first time the following week. That’s where you thought things started before you began to actually think.


	3. ★𝐵𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓉★

You’d never been to San’s house even though you guys had hung out plenty of times in the past year or so. He lived on the top floor of an apartment building toward the outskirts of Seoul with his parents and sister. It was an odd invitation, and you didn’t think it would be comfortable just meeting his family out of nowhere. You weren’t sure how to interpret it. On your way over, the air had suddenly grown frozen as the sun completely disappeared behind the horizon. You silently thanked yourself for having the foresight to wear a coat, but your face was still whipped by the cold wind. With each icy step, you wondered if he was going to ask you out even though you had both just broken up with your significant others, or try to hook up with you or try to set you up with someone. You weren’t ready to jump into another relationship, though—your ex was not meant to be in your life long-term, but you loved him all the same.

Your heart was racing as you ascended the stairwell—instead of using the elevator—because you were zonked out of your mind with anxiety. Your steps were slow and lingering, almost as if you deliberately willed your feet to weigh as that of wet wood. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him; you did, you were just…nervous. The friendly little dragonflies fluttered around your insides and you weren’t sure if you were floating or sinking. That feeling carried you up to the fifth floor and to the blocked entrance to his apartment. With sweaty palms and concerning heart palpitations, you balled your hand into a fist and rapped lightly on the rotting teal wood. Only then did you realize that there was a worn-out blue button right next to the door that was clearly the doorbell.

The realization came too late because the door was pulled open by a kind, aging woman who looked so much like San. She had his dimples and the same twinkle in her eyes. She smiled at you and that melted your nerves immediately. “안녕하세요. 산이의 친구, 맞이?” _Hi, there. Are you San’s friend?_ Her dark hair was being overrun by gray, making it a salt-and-pepper color, and her face was riddled with wrinkles that come with age. Still, she was beautiful nonetheless. San’s mother was always a bright soul, and you missed her long after San had gone from your life.

She led you through the front room, which was likened to a pastel rainbow and filled with misshapen clocks and stained glass windows hanging on the walls, where you briefly greeted his sister and father. San’s dad kind-of looked nothing like him, but his smile was genuine and you came to the conclusion that San was a good person because he was raised by them. His sister seemed to be the red-headed step-child; she was tall and had dyed her hair a light burgundy color. Her eyes were dark and big with glasses framing them, and her lips thin but supple. She was clearly older than him, as she was tucked away in an oversized sweater, despairing over university coursework at the dinner table.

You were taken down further, past the small kitchen, and to the end of the only hallway that housed two doors on one side, one on the other, and one at the back wall. A chubby Siamese cat that seemingly came from nowhere passed you two, moving toward the kitchen and front room. You remembered San telling you a bit about his pet, Byeol, and you silently took note of the felines markings. Then, slowing her steps, San’s mother turned to you and offered one last smile before gesturing to the single door. “저 위에 있다.” _He’s up there._ No more words were spoken as she walked back the way you came, leaving you in semi-dark lighting to stare at the old slab of yellow wood before you.

Your thoughts weren’t necessarily circling around your head. They weren’t all over the place, either, though. They were focused on the chipping yellow paint and the birch wood beneath. They were focused on the blue walls of the living room and the seafoam hallway. They were focused on the long heart-shaped clock over the oven that was blue with clouds all over it. All of those little things, and big things, held a memory for San. Maybe he watched the weird clock on the night of his first date, eagerly waiting for the right time to leave. Maybe he banged his forehead on the blue walls when he got a bad grade on a test, or maybe he ran through the seafoam hallway playing cops and robbers with his sister when they were kids. You weren’t sure what San meant to you per se, but these little parts of him—his parents, his sister, the clock, and the walls—they mattered to you. He mattered to you.

It was a subconscious action, taking the aged copper knob in your hand and twisting it, so you felt a bit disoriented when you realized that you were half-way up a narrow staircase that led to another door, but this one was open. Twinkling stars against a dark indigo sky beckoned you and your inhibitions stayed behind on the stairs when you passed through the threshold.

The plain sight that greeted you was underwhelming. The floor was stained with God-knows-what, old and peeling and bubbling from weather damage. The view was nice but expected: some more apartment buildings in the near distance and skyscrapers in the far distance. A Seven Eleven sat across the street and the clerk behind the counter seemed bored from where you stood. It was a small area, not something you could do too much with; the roof was ordinary. The boy standing at the edge was not.

San was leaning against the railing that fenced you two in. He was looking down at the street and didn’t seem to notice your presence initially. You drew closer, not wanting to startle him so much as you wanted to know what he was staring at. His ebony hair was ruffling slightly in the light breeze. Even with the tense static pricking the air, one of his legs was bent elegantly behind the other, forcing his toes into a curl that he executed with expertise—a true dancer, right down to every last subconscious move. Aside from a plain black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, he was just in socks, one pink that was too small and beginning to slip off his foot and the other black with orange cats on it. It then occurred to you that he might have forgotten that he invited you over in the first place.

But even when you called his name, San didn’t flinch. He remained in the same position, not moving a muscle as if he hadn’t heard you. Apprehensively, you went to him and leaned on the railing beside him. Only then did he speak, eyes still fixed on what you then realized was everything and nothing at all. His voice was quiet, though, and you had to lean in closer to hear him.

“ 나는 받아들여지지 않았다.” _I didn’t get in._

Even though it wasn’t your future on the line, your heart sank into your stomach and you felt it go all the way down, taking any ounce of jovial nonchalance with it to simmer and burn there in the acid, never to be recovered. Because, if there was anything you knew about San, it was that he was a dancer. Through and through, dance was his life. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had won gold at the Youth America Grand Prix, which his parents began saving up for the moment he voiced his desire to compete so far away. In high school, he spent a good thirty hours a week practicing, sacrificing the normal life of a teenager with a part-time job, or impeccably good grades. Even after, he practiced the same amount, using a dance studio that he then paid for thanks to a job he could have in the absence of school.

SeoulArts was his dream college—and it slipped through his fingers so easily, even after he spent years slaving and sacrificing to get in. You couldn’t relate, as you’d been accepted to your school of choice. It was a best-case scenario, but still, you felt guilty.

You felt especially guilty because you didn’t know what to say. You were afraid of saying the wrong thing, or of coming off insincere. You quickly regressed a few years, suddenly convinced that you didn’t know San at all, and nothing you said could comfort him. You were suddenly that awkward fifteen-year-old again, unable to look him in the eye or respond to him. Your eyes shifted from his bare arms to the Seven-Eleven and then back to him. It was winter, and snow would be coming soon. The air was already prickly with icy winds. You were bundled up in that coat, and you were slightly concerned that he wasn’t even shivering. His lips were dry and his ears and nose were red from the cold, as they always were in the winter months, but he gave no sign of feeling the temperature. Even with how thin he was back then—nothing.

Instead of saying anything, you moved closer, pressing your clothed arm against his bare one. He didn’t look at you, only leaned into your touch, and let his head curl in toward his chest. He closed his eyes, and you hoped to God that he wasn’t going to cry—that would’ve destroyed you.

“이제 에떻게?” _What are you gonna do now?_

San breathed in and out through his nose before answering. “뭔가 알아낼 때까지 한양에서 수업을 좀 들을 거야.” _I’ll take some classes at Hanyang until I figure something out._

“산아—” _San—_

“난 최고 중의 한 명이고” _I’m one of the best,_ he said suddenly, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at you. His eyes were slightly glazed and the skin around them was red as if he had been crying before you got there. Only then did you realize how close you two were. “그들이 어떻게 나를 거절할 수 있었을까?” _How could they reject me?_

You knew your expression oozed with sorrow, and his eyes seemed to soften when you said, “나도 몰라.” _I don’t know._

His gaze lingered on yours for a lot longer than what would have been considered normal. You swallowed hard, nerves and uncertainty swirling around in your head to replace the walls and the clock. The items were just items but San was right in front of you and you could feel him. Whatever that meant, you felt him. Soon enough, he averted his gaze to stare down again, eyes unfocused. “아니, 이건 모두 계획의 일부야.” _No, this is all part of the plan._

“계획?” _The plan?_

“그래, 내 삶의…길이든 뭐든.” _Yeah, my life’s…path or whatever._ He paused to look up at the sky that faded from indigo to periwinkle. “그게, 우리는 저 위에서 왔다.” _You know, we come from up there._

San wasn’t the religious type as far as you knew, so his comment threw you off. “천국” _Heaven?_

But he was the one that seemed surprised by your interpretation, turning his wide eyes on you. He quickly brushed it off with a few blinks and looked out toward the city lights instead. “내 말은, 물론, 네가 그걸 믿는다면, 하지만 난 별들을 말하는 거야.” _I mean, sure, if you believe in that—but I meant the stars._ You waited for him to go on, and he did, moving his forearm on the railing as if it was beginning to cut his circulation. His knuckles brushed against yours.

“구십삼퍼센트 스타더스트.” _Ninety-three percent stardust,_ he continued, tilting his head up to turn his attention to the sky. His lips curled into a smile, but there was sorrow in his eyes. “불꽃으로 만들어진 영혼들 함께, 우리는 모두 사람들의 이름을 가진 별 뿐이다.” _With souls made of flames, we’re all just stars that have people names._

It sounded a little cheesy to you, so you asked, “노래에서 나온 거야?” _Is that from a song?_

“시,” _Poem,_ he admitted with a smirk directed toward the asphalt below.

A smile tugged at one corner of your mouth and you had to look away. “Loser.”

“차, 넌 정말 친구를 위로할 줄 아는구나.” _Man, you really know how to comfort a friend._

He was joking, and you knew he was, but something about his comment forced the playfulness to drain from your disposition and seep into the concrete beneath your shoes. The smile on your face fell, making the long journey over the railing to shatter on the cold and empty street. You wanted to come up with something cool and smooth to say, but again, your tongue was tied. Sometimes, you felt like you always knew what to say—that rarely happened with San. It was his presence and his disposition and his eyes. You wanted to reach into his gaze and give his heart a soothing pat. But we all want things.

“미안” _Sorry,_ you mumbled, staring directly down at the brick your arms rested on, wishing so desperately to be rid of your coat so you could feel San’s warmth or chill. “네가 들어가지 못해서 미안해. 원하는 것을 얻을 자격이 있는 사람은 바로 너다. 그건 그냥… 불공평해.” _I’m sorry you didn’t get in. If anyone deserves to get what they want, it’s you. It’s just…unfair._

San made a small noise like he was holding back a laugh. A little offended, you looked up at him with pink cheeks to find him smiling at you. “솔직히 괜찮다. 나한테 미안해하지 마.” _It’s honestly fine. Don’t be sorry for me._

And suddenly you were small. You felt so small under his gaze. Warm, sweet, and sparkling. You bubbled inside with a hot feeling and the icy winds weren’t so icy anymore. The wind was just wind, the rooftop was just a rooftop, you were just you, but San was an entirely different entity. Seemingly within the span of your time up there with him, San had changed. In your eyes, he had become more than just a dancer; a sub-par student; a friend. His greatness humbled you, but almost to a point of embarrassment. He was unattainable—but before then you didn’t realize that you even wanted him in the first place.

That line about stars seemed a little too perfect, but you began to see what he was talking about. And in San’s eyes that twinkled and pulsed with light, you found a galaxy staring back at you. That’s when you decided that not everyone was made of stardust, but he was. That made you even smaller, even more insignificant. Your throat burned with the desire to be important to him, but you swallowed the feeling.

“아니, 뭐,” _Well, you know,_ you said, turning your attention to the buildings in the opposite direction. “넌 유능해. 넌 그걸 알아낼 수 있을 것이다.” _You’re competent. You’ll figure it out._

San breathed out, a smile dancing—almost as beautifully as he can—across his lips. “고맙다.” _Thanks._

You let the silence settle, standing beside him with your arms pressing together. The thoughts now ran in circles around your head and you watched them pass over your eyes again and again. Clock, walls, en pointe. Relevé, SeoulArts, San. You wished you could comfort him better. You so desperately wished to be a source of inspiration. In hindsight, you two leaned on each other for most things. Support, hope, and even love eventually. If you hadn’t gone to his house that day, things might be different now, but you’re sure you wouldn’t change anything. Even when things soured, you never regretted San.

“차—가자.” _Alright—let’s go._ He pushed himself off the railing, twirling around to walk back toward the door.

You were a bit taken back by his sudden change-of-pace. “어디?” _Where?_

San looked back at you with a little smirk and gestured to the railing. “그 편의점. 너 배에서 꼬르륵 소리가 났어.” _That convenience store. Your stomach was growling._

Embarrassed again, you followed him quietly, grateful that he picked up on cues that you were too in-your-head to notice. That was one thing you appreciated about him—he noticed everything. Every little detail; nothing escaped his attention. You just hadn’t figured out that he only paid close attention when it came to you.

So you followed San down the stairs that night, and you said goodbye to his family, unaware that it was only the first of many encounters to come. You let him buy you an energy drink and take you to a small outdoor tent for dinner. It wasn’t a date—but every time San smiled, or joked, or stared into your eyes waiting for you to respond to him, something grew inside of you. Maybe it was admiration for his strength. Even in the face of an unfortunate event, San was able to carry on with his life with the same amount of joy as he always did. Soon after, you realized that what grew within you was love.

You spent almost every day of your small break between high school and college with him. You went to the most outlandish cafes, took road trips to the seaside, peeked in on clubs known for prostitution and drug trafficking—just for the adrenaline rush (needless to say, you two were young and idiotic and searching for something, anything to make you feel alive). And when school started for you, your schedule was somewhat hectic. You had classes almost all day and then you had to spend the rest of the night studying. For about a week, you didn’t see San at all. You were beginning to fear that that was the end of your beloved friendship.

That is until he showed up at your door with candy bars and a tiny bouquet of daisies already placed into a small multi-colored vase that seemed as if it was made from stained glass. Your mother was floored—she began to call San “the pretty boy that likes you”. Luckily, she only ever said it behind his back. You, as well, were confused as to why he’d bring you flowers out of nowhere. But when you asked him, he sputtered, “ 아니, 뭐, 그게…내 생각엔 네 서랍장 위에서 잘 어울릴 것 같아, 그게 다야.” _Well, um, those…I think they’d look good on your dresser, that’s all._

It then became a ritual. On Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, San would come to your house with dessert and keep you company while you studied. He mostly distracted you, but it was more than welcomed. He’d sit on your bed and eat most of the chocolate, nearly falling asleep every time. Sometimes you woke him up, but others, you let him be and slept on the floor. It was a peaceful period, never confusing. But then, one spring day in April, it became a problem.


End file.
